“Do you hear something?” Katrina asked.
“It sounds like fighting,” Allison said, her needles frozen in midair.
For a split second, Nora met my eyes. Then we tossed our knitting aside and went running for the front door, the others close behind. I was the first one out and, seeing nothing at first, started over toward the carriage house and the sound of the ruckus. My foot throbbed from the initial sprint, significantly slowing my progress, and I rounded the corner far behind the other ladies, who had stopped several paces from a small group of men. Right off, I saw John Lewis and David Smith, standing with a handful of other farmhands, eagerly watching and cheering two men engaged in a fight.
In a large open space, Henry and Ben each held a sword, lunging and parrying aggressively, the sound of clashing steel ringing out whenever their swords would meet. They had both undressed down to their shirts. Even still they were sweating heavily from the intense physical exertion and the heat of the day. Ben was by no means a bad swordsman, but Henry was clearly the better fighter. Taller and more heavily muscled, he moved with surprising graceful for his size, and within minutes of my arrival he had Ben’s sword knocked to the ground. Both breathing hard, they laughed and shook hands amicably.
“What are they doing?” Katrina whispered.
“Good question,” I mumbled and walked through the crowd into the clearing. “What would the Elders say if they knew good Quaker lads were skirting their work to watch a swordfight?” I stared right at John and David. “And what about the rest of you? Isn’t there enough wheat to keep you busy or do we need to plant more?”
The men started at my reproach, and begging my pardon, trudged guiltily back to work. Experiencing no such guilt, Henry walked over to me, his sword still firmly gripped in one hand. Carelessly brushing the stray hair from his eyes, he could have easily been mistaken for a mythical warrior, reborn from some ancient legend. “Good day, Selah,” he said with an expression of pure exhilaration. “Ben and I have just been practicing at some swordplay.”
“Would this be the defensive farming techniques that disjointed Ben’s finger last week?” I asked wryly.
“Yes,” he said, his smile broadening. “Thankfully there are no injuries to report today.”
After retrieving his sword, Ben came up to join us.
“Is there a reason you two are fighting during the middle of the day and distracting the farmhands from their work?” I asked.
Ben looked embarrassed. “It’s my fault, ma’am. Since we were attacked coming home from Philadelphia, I asked Henry to teach me what he knows of sword fighting so I could be better prepared if it ever happened again.”
His answer surprised me, and I quickly gulped back any further reprimands.
“Don’t be such a hen,” Phoebe chided from close behind me. “Let the men have their fun.”
Turning around, I saw her smiling coyly at Henry. Given a choice, I would have opted to shove a fistful of mud into her pretty little face rather than introduce her to my husband, but manners were manners and propriety had to be observed. “Henry, please let me introduce my friends.” I swallowed back the bitter taste in my mouth. “You’ve already met Nora Goodwin. This is Miss Oswald and Allison Dowling.” I stopped here, thinking maybe no one would notice if I accidentally forgot Phoebe, but Henry gazed admiringly at her. “And Miss Trumble,” I added hastily.
“Pleased to meet you.” Henry bowed graciously. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant day of knitting.”
“Oh, yes,” Phoebe said. “I am so concerned for the less fortunate and often tell Selah that we simply must do more for them.”
“I didn’t know you were such a humanitarian,” Nora said. “I’ll make sure to include you next time we’re asked to scour old Nan’s privy.”
“You are too kind,” Phoebe said dryly before glancing back to Henry. “Mr. Kilbrid, I must confess, the most exciting part of the day was watching you fight. I nearly swooned when you knocked the sword from Ben.”
Henry laughed, but seemed pleased. “Ben was fighting with a sore hand. I wager he won’t be so easily defeated next time.”
Normally Ben would have declined such praise, but he was no longer listening, having turned his attention toward the far road that ran alongside a stretch of woods. Following his gaze, I watched four men emerge from the trees. They rode bareback, dressed in only moccasins and doeskin pants, leaving their torsos entirely exposed except where their long black hair fell down along their backs. Henry saw the men and moved at once in front of me, his sword ready at his side. Well, he really stepped in front of all the women, but he was standing closest to me.
As the Lenape drew nearer, I recognized the chief’s eldest son Teme among the riders and stepped out from behind Henry to limp in their direction.
“What are you doing?” Henry took hold of my arm before I could go any further.